


Shimmers in the Sun

by Teuthida



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 06:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12452025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teuthida/pseuds/Teuthida
Summary: There were soulprints made of shimmering black opal all over the green room floor.





	Shimmers in the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I'm basing dates here on the assumption that Yuuri crashed and burned at the 2015 GPF and the meat of YoI takes place in the 16-17 season. (Yes, I know the locations don't work out, but it's the only way the Olympics math makes sense to me.) Also, I know very little about figure skating, so I apologize in advance if Google has failed me.
> 
> I do not currently have a beta. I try to do the best self-editing I can, but I know that's no real substitute for a second pair of eyes. So if I've missed anything, please let me know.

Victor walked down the hall towards the green room, rolling his shoulders. He felt nervous, more so than he'd felt before a competition in years. With Canada's Zachary Williams retiring at the end of the 2010-11 season, everyone in Russia was looking to him to finally step up and take gold. To redeem himself for falling to fifth in Vancouver and then only managing to take home the bronze at a Worlds hastily relocated to Moscow the next year.

He knew he could do it. He'd taken the gold at the Grand Prix Finals and Nationals this year, though only silver at Europeans, due to a bad fall. But his programs were stellar, and he knew this was his year. Victor could feel in his bones that the gold at the 2012 World Championships was his to lose.

He was still nervous. It felt almost unconnected to his skating, like there was something else on the horizon, something coming. Something that could change everything forever.

Victor stepped into the room and stopped abruptly, staring.

There were soulprints made of shimmering black opal all over the green room floor.

-

One of Victor's earliest memories was reaching out and trying to touch the brilliantly glittering diamond spikes his mama's feet left in her wake. But his hand passed right through them, like they were nothing. So he tried again and again, trying to understand, until they slowly faded away.

His nanny came over and asked what he was doing.

"I'm trying to touch Mama's footprints."

Galina laughed and sat down on the floor next to him. "Soulprints, not footprints," she corrected gently, "and we can't touch them. Hasn't your mama told you about them?"

Victor shook his head. "Mama doesn't like to talk about them."

Galina smiled sadly. "Soulprints might remind her too much of your mother."

Victor had seen pictures of his other mama. She'd had long pale hair and blue eyes, like him. "Why would they remind Mama of her?"

"Their soulprints probably brought them together," Galina said. "We see gemstones in the footsteps of the people who will be most important in our lives. They guide us to them, so we don't miss them."

"Like Mama?" Victor asked.

Galina laughed again. "Yes, like our parents. But also our siblings, spouses, children, closest friends, or even," she said, reaching out to ruffle Victor's hair, "our bitter enemies."

Victor grinned. "Do you have enemies?"

"Me? Never!" Galina said, her hand on her heart. "But maybe you will! You'll dazzle the world on the stage like your mother did and all the other dancers will hate you."

"No, they won't! Everyone will love me." Victor nodded firmly.

"I hope they do. And maybe if you're lucky, you'll even spark with someone some day." 

"Spark?" Victor asked.

"Something that's only for adults. Very boring for little boys." Galina smiled down at him and stood back up. "Now, how about a snack?"

Victor pouted but nodded his agreement and watched as she left the room. It wasn't until years later that he'd understood that her shiny, oily footsteps that vanished almost instantly meant that she was far more important to his life than he was to hers.

-

Yakov raised an eyebrow at him from across the room. Victor shook his head and took a deep breath. He tried not to stare at the floor too obviously as he walked over to him, but black opal filled his vision, rainbows revealing themselves in the deep blue as the angle of light changed. It was surrounded occasionally by the pale yellow citrine he knew was Yakov and the deep red garnet that was Chris, but black opal was new. It was different. It was a bit exciting.

"Vitya?" Yakov asked, his voice low.

"There are unfamiliar soulprints on the floor," Victor said, pitching his voice just loud enough for Yakov to hear.

"Don't think about it. You need to keep your mind on your short program." Yakov looked at him, and his face softened. "You'll find them."

Victor nodded. Of course he would. That's what soulprints were for.

-

When Victor turned seven, his mama said that he was too old for a nanny. Then she'd taken him to meet Zoya, who she said would look after him when she wasn't home.

Mama was never home.

Zoya didn't like him very much, but Zoya didn't seem to like anyone very much. Victor wondered sometimes just what favor she owed his mama to be willing to take him in every day. He'd tried asking once, but she'd just shaken her head and sighed.

The only good thing about Zoya was that she owned an ice rink. It was old, and half the lights didn't work, but Victor loved it. He could put on his skates and fly for hours. He taught himself how to skate backwards and stop and spin. He started watching skating on television and tried copying what he saw until he could jump and spin around once, twice in the air before he landed. He had fun, by himself, on the ice.

Today, Zoya was working in her office upstairs. Victor didn't know what she did up there, and he wasn't going to ask. All he knew was that it meant she wasn't going to come back down for hours, and the ice was smooth and his blades were sharp. It was time to keep working on his new routine. All the skaters on television had routines, so he should have a routine too.

Victor put a cassette into Zoya's ancient boombox and he skated. He twirled and jumped and danced to the music. He danced like his mother, who had died when he was too young to remember. Maybe if he could be as a beautiful as she'd been, his mama would stay home with him sometimes.

He struck a pose that he'd seen a skater make on television the night before when the song finished, and someone started clapping.

Victor spun around. There was a man standing on the other side of the boards by the door. Victor skated over, slowly. There was virtually never anyone else in the rink, aside from the old drunks who played hockey on the weekends. 

"Are you looking for Zoya?" Victor asked once he got close enough.

"No, I was following…." The man cut himself off. "Who taught you to skate like that?"

Victor shrugged. "No one. Me."

The man raised an eyebrow. "No one? Really?"

"I copy the people on television?"

"You copy the people on television," the man repeated, disbelievingly.

Victor nodded. "And my mother's old dance tapes." He skated up to the boards and reached for his water bottle. A glimmer caught his eye and he stared. "Your footprints are yellow," he blurted out.

The man chuckled. "Look again."

Victor's eyes widened. They weren't footprints. "Oh. Oh, my old nanny taught me what I'm supposed to say." He paused for a moment, trying to remember. "My name is Victor Nikiforov, and behind your feet your soul shimmers in the sun?" He wasn't sure that was right.

"My name is Yakov Feltsman, and behind your feet your soul glimmers in the moon," Mr. Feltsman said. "Your old nanny was a traditionalist." He tensed and held out a hand.

Victor reached out to grasp it. The moment their palms touched, Mr. Feltsman relaxed. Victor wasn't sure why. It just felt like a hand. He let go.

"How old are you?" Mr. Feltsman asked.

"I turn nine next week!" Mama had promised to be home all day. Maybe she actually would be, this time.

"A little young," Mr. Feltsman said under his breath, "but I wouldn't be here without a reason."

"Young for what?" Victor asked.

"Many things." Mr. Feltsman shook his head. "Tell me, do you like skating?"

"It makes me feel like I'm flying," Victor said. He felt free on the ice. He felt alive.

Mr. Feltsman let out a breath and looked him in the eye. "I'm a figure skating coach, and I think you have a lot of potential. I'd like you to become my student."

"I could learn to skate like the people on television?" Victor asked.

"Victor," Mr. Feltsman said very seriously, "you will be one of the people on television."

"Oh." He thought about how beautiful the skaters were, how graceful they moved, and the stories they told with their bodies. If he skated like that, his mama would have to notice him. "Yes. Yes, please."

-

Victor let out a breath. Whomever the prints belonged to didn't seem to be here now, so there was nothing to do but wait. He glanced over at the television displaying the current skater. He was just the second skater of Group Five, but there was no ice resurfacing between Groups Five and Six. He couldn't let his muscles get cold.

He went into a gentle stretch and then stared in astonishment at the television. The skater had just done something absolutely ridiculous with his feet, perfectly in time with the music. Victor wasn't actually sure he could even do step sequences like that.

"Who is that?" Victor asked.

"Hmm?" Yakov turned to look. "Ah, Yuuri Katsuki, from Japan. It's his first year in Seniors. He only skated in one event in the Grand Prix series and didn't make much of a mark, but he easily took silver at Japanese Nationals and placed a surprising fourth at Four Continents. Which you would know, if you had actually taken the time to watch Four Continents."

"I did!" Makkachin had been sick, so he hadn't been paying very close attention, but it had at least been playing in the background. He'd only really made a point to watch Cao Bin, who he knew was probably his biggest non-European competition this year. Katsuki's name did sound familiar, though, now that Yakov said it. Victor watched as he went into a truly beautiful spin, and then more ridiculous step sequences. "His musicality is amazing."

Yakov made a non-committal noise and they both winced as Katsuki fell hard out of a jump. "And that would be why Sakaguchi still took gold at Japanese Nationals."

Victor sighed and forced himself to look away from Katsuki's recovery. He had his own skate to prepare for.

-

Victor thought it was extremely unfair that animals didn't have soulprints. Makkachin was clearly one of the most important people in his life.

He fancied hers would be a beautiful rose quartz.

-

Victor stood up and started pacing the room a little, just to keep moving. He glanced at the television as Katsuki's score was announced, placing him in first for the moment. It wouldn't hold, but it might be enough to put him in the top six for the free skate. Given who was left to skate, that wasn't very likely, but it was possible. Still, Victor would have to remember to compliment him on his step sequences.

He watched as the next member of Group Five took the ice, a young skater from America, and sighed as his music started. Swan Lake again. At least it wasn't Carmen.

He kept walking around the room, evading the other skaters also attempting to keep loose. Chris tried to catch his eye, but Victor shook his head. Right now, he just wanted to stay focused.

"Ciao Ciao, could you please hand me my glasses?" a voice asked somewhat shakily in accented English, loud in the otherwise relatively quiet room.

Victor turned to look and saw Katsuki staring at him, wide-eyed. And, oh. Oh.

Behind his feet was a trail of black opal.

-

Victor felt like he was drunk. He'd just won gold at Europeans at seventeen, in his senior debut season, in the lead-up to the Olympics. He couldn't get ahead of himself, but he'd just proven that his silver at the Grand Prix Finals and gold at Russian Nationals weren't flukes, and he did possibly have a shot at the Olympic podium.

But he couldn't let himself think about that, at least not yet, even though he knew that's what half the questions at the press conference were going to be about. He'd only won by a hair.

"Victor!" a voice called from above him. "Congratulations!"

Victor smiled up at the young skater, asked for his name, and tossed him a flower from his bouquet. The poor kid looked starstruck.

The press conference was torture. He put on his public smile and said all the things that Yakov and his publicist had drilled into him. But over half the questions were about the upcoming Olympic Games and how they all felt about them and their competitors, and Victor felt like he said the same thing in slightly different words over twenty times. It was exhausting.

When he finally managed to get away, he slipped into an empty side corridor and sighed. The press was definitely not on his list of his favorite things about figure skating.

A throat cleared behind him. "Victor?"

He turned around, expecting to see another reporter, but it was the young skater from earlier. Victor wondered for a moment how he'd found him, until he stepped further into the corridor and Victor could see the deep red soulprints following him.

Victor felt his mouth drop open.

Chris beamed at him. The rose Victor had thrown him was tucked behind his ear. "I know! I had to find you so we could talk in private. Luckily," he said cheerfully, "I had a trail to follow."

Victor smiled and held out his hand. "Well, I'm glad you did."

Chris grasped it and then frowned, letting it go with a sigh. "Ah, well. I was kind of hoping we'd spark."

Victor laughed. "You know, sparking is not actually required - my coach and his wife didn't. And some people spark years after they first meet, so you never know." Granted, usually that was people who first met when one or both of them hadn't hit puberty yet, but not always.

"I know. But it would've been such a good story! Sparking after your first European Championships gold would've been quite the tale to tell at our wedding." Chris's eyes twinkled.

Victor slowly shook his head. "Alas, the world will have live without that particular story."

"I'll just have to keep hope alive," Chris said.

"Well, while you're busy pining, how about you join me for dinner?" Victor asked. He knew Yakov would want to take him out to celebrate, but he was sure he wouldn't mind once Victor explained.

Chris smiled, much smaller and sweeter than he had before. "I'd love to."

-

Victor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Katsuki was still standing by the exit to the ice, so Victor walked over as calmly as he could.

"I was watching you skate. Your step sequences are gorgeous." Victor kept his voice as quiet as he could.

Katsuki looked like he was in a state of shock. "I. I still fell, though. Twice."

"Jumps can be perfected, but your sheer musicality is amazing. You're better than I am, I think." Victor laughed a little.

Katsuki's jaw dropped. "No, no I could never be better than you. You're the most beautiful man on the ice!" He stopped himself and flushed, and looked down at the floor. If anything, what he obviously saw there just made his cheeks redden even more.

It was adorable.

Victor nodded towards the door that led deeper into the depths of the arena. "Shall we go talk in private?"

Katsuki nodded faintly. He was still drenched in sweat, but Victor couldn't bring himself to care.

Victor glanced at the television as they walked into the corridor, trying to judge how much time they had before he had to be on the ice. He couldn't wait, couldn't go out and skate when he knew Katsuki was waiting for him without even having truly met him, so it would have to be enough.

As soon as they were through the doors and into the mostly empty corridor, Katsuki said, his voice faint, "I always knew I'd see something behind you, but I thought it would just be oil. I never thought it might actually be gemstones."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "You always knew?"

Katsuki nodded frantically, his eyes wild. "I. Watching you is what made me seriously commit to skating. I'd already been competing in Novices, but I still hadn't decided if I really wanted to skate or to dance. I wasn't sure I actually wanted the pressure of debuting in Juniors the next season. But when I watched your Junior Worlds win, all I wanted was to be there on the ice with you. It was just so beautiful. It made my choice obvious."

Oh. Oh, that was…. "I think that's the best thing anyone's ever said to me that they actually meant."

Katsuki flushed again, and took a deep breath. Then he bowed deeply and said something fluid and lyrical in Japanese that had an air of ritual.

Victor blinked at him and replied in Russian, "My name is Victor Nikiforov and behind your feet your soul glimmers in the moon?"

Katsuki laughed a little and held out his hand. "Katsuki Yuuri."

Victor smiled. "Victor Nikiforov." He reached out and grasped Yuuri's hand. It felt like a shock going through his whole body. Victor stared down at their hands in amazement and gripped Yuuri's hand harder, unwilling to let go.

Yuuri's eyes were wide. He looked down at their hands and then back up at Victor's face. He bit his lip and reached out to grasp Victor's other hand, lacing their fingers together.

Victor adjusted his grip on the hand he was holding to lace those fingers together too, and watched as actual tiny fireworks went off above them. Wow.

Yuuri stared into Victor's eyes through the fireworks display and Victor stared back. He swallowed hard and tried to figure out what to say. Nothing seemed momentous enough.

Victor wasn't actually sure how long they stood staring at each other like that before he heard the door open. They both flushed and turned to look, though they didn't drop their hands.

Yakov poked his head through. He looked at them and sighed softly, shaking his head. "Vitya, they've called Group Six warm-ups. Katsuki, you're in second now." He closed the door before poking his head out a second time. "And congratulations."

"You have to go," Yuuri said, stroking his thumb across Victor's.

Victor nodded but didn't let go. "I have no idea how I'm going to concentrate."

Yuuri ducked his head and smiled. Then he leaned in and kissed him lightly, pulling away before Victor could react. "If you don't skate your best, I won't meet you after." Yuuri looked like he couldn't believe he'd just done that, but he dropped his hands and pushed Victor through the door.

"That. What? No! That isn't fair!" Victor cried out.

Yuuri just smiled at him, his eyes soft. "I'll be watching, Victor."

Victor made his way out to the ice, feeling lighter than he had in years. Out there in the stands somewhere, his mama was watching. Yakov and Chris were waiting for him by the ice. And now Yuuri was waiting for him too. He'd skate for all of them. This was his year.

Though, Chris was right. This was going to make a fantastic story.

**Author's Note:**

> (That summer, Victor took his Yuuri around St. Petersburg on a whirlwind tour. During the second week, they stopped in at Yakov's development camp, mostly because Victor had accidentally left something in the locker rooms.
> 
> As they walked in the door, a young boy of maybe 10 walked past, dragging a slightly older boy who looked vaguely shell-shocked behind him. The young boy's footsteps were made of pure obsidian.
> 
> Then the boy stopped, backed up, and turned to look at them. "Three in one day," he muttered.
> 
> Victor smiled at him and opened his mouth to introduce himself but the boy didn't let him.
> 
> "My name is Yuri Plisetsky," he said in Russian. "You're Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki, and I already have a new friend so you're going to be my enemies." Then Yuri slapped their hands with his and ran off, dragging the other boy behind him. The other boy was looking back at them, his eyes wide.
> 
> They stared after them, and Victor translated what he'd said into English.
> 
> "Cute kid," Yuuri said, faintly. "What did you see?"
> 
> "Obsidian. You?"
> 
> "Jade.")


End file.
